Emeralds of Ice
by Dragonfly Hope
Summary: ON HOLD-Everyone knows that the boy-who-lived is on the side of the light, but...what if they're wrong? After all, no one has ever asked Harry which side he's on. Caution: OOTP Spoilers ahead!
1. You never asked me

Disclaimer- If I did own Harry Potter, Sirius would not have died. So since he did, obviously I do not. I am merely borrowing them to occupy my twisted mind for a bit. But I promise to return them to J.K.R. unharmed, physically. Mentally, well, one can never be sure...  
  
/--/ means italics  
  
'--' means thoughts  
  
"--" means speech  
  
"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend." - William Blake  
  
Emeralds of Ice  
  
Voldemort stood over them, an evil smirk on his face, but none of them were looking at You-Know-Who. They were looking at /him/. The traitor. He stood next to Voldemort, his /master/, smirking at them. At their plight.   
  
Yes, Ron, Hermione, Remus, Snape, the rest of the Weasleys-minus Percy-, McGonagall, and even Dumbledore, were now the prisoners of the Dark Lord, and the traitor.  
  
None of them wanted to believe it, yet they knew it was true. Had all along. In fact, they were surprised they hadn't noticed it sooner. Maybe one of them had, but just didn't want to believe it. The same thought went through all of their minds. 'How could he?!'  
  
Finally Ron broke the silence. "Why?"  
  
Ron's gaze locked onto the traitor's. Once those eyes were a bright and lively emerald, but were now cold and sharp, like ice.  
  
"Why?" Harry answered with feigned hurt. "Don't you know? I thought you all knew everything about your precious boy-who-lived." He finished sarcastically. "But of course you wouldn't know. After all, you never bothered to ask /me/ about anything that concerned me. You never asked me if I even wanted to fight against Voldemort. No. You all just assumed that since I was the /boy-who-lived/ that I would fight Voldemort."  
  
Harry's words were said in a sharp and bitter tone that cut through each and everyone of them. And one person in particular took those words to heart, blaming himself for Harry's betrayal. 'How could I have been so blind? This is all my fault.'  
  
--TBC...maybe. Depends on what you all think about this. So, please, review. It would make my day so much brighter! 


	2. You never cared

Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter books, they would have a dark Harry, and would not be suitable for young kids. Since the actual books have a good Harry, I obviously do not own them. I am just borrowing them from J.K.R. to perform psychological experiments on. They will be returned, but may end up sharing a room with Lockhart at St. Mungos for a period of time...  
  
/--/ means italics  
  
'--' means thoughts  
  
"--" means speech  
  
"It is difficult to say who do you the most mischief: enemies with the worst intentions or friends with the best." - Edward Robert Bulwer-Lytton   
  
Emeralds of Ice  
  
"You never cared about Harry. All you cared about was the boy-who-lived. I was just a tool to you. A tool to be used and then thrown aside until the next time you have use for it. And you don't care what happens to the tool, if it gets busted and stomped on, as long as it can still fulfill its purpose, who cares what happens to it or what it thinks."  
  
"Harry, we do care what happens to you," Dumbledore spoke, sounding very much like the old man he was.  
  
"You act like you care, and for a while I believed that you actually did." Harry replied, his eyes glinting with an ice like quality.  
  
"Then what changed, Harry? Why don't you believe us anymore?" Remus asked in a subdued voice.  
  
"You want to know? You really want to know? Well, then I'll tell you. Fifth year. /That's/ what happened. You all talked about how I was so strong and brave and courageous, a true Gryffindor, but when it came to the truth, you all acted like I was a piece of glass, easily shattered."  
  
"Dumbledore," Harry's voice was laced with malice. "You told me you wanted to protect me, that's why you never told me the truth. But when it came to protecting me from actual things, when I was actually in danger, you forgot about me. You act all high and mighty, but when it all comes down to it, you'd rather sit back and watch, rather than helping."  
  
"When have I not protected you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"You honestly don't know," Harry said with amazement. "Or is it, you'd rather not know?" he finished bitterly, his ice like eyes glaring at them. "Let's start from the beginning. You couldn't even protect me when I was a baby. And then you send me to the Dursleys', knowing what they were like, all the time using the excuse that it was for /my own good/. And then when I began at Hogwarts, you weren't there to protect me from Quirill.  
  
Second year, you didn't protect me from being blamed for what was happening. You didn't protect me from the accusing stares and looks everyone sent me. And then you weren't even there to protect me from the basilisk, Fawkes had to do it for you.  
  
Third year, when everyone thought that Sirius Black was after me, he was able to get into the dorms, right under your nose. And then you didn't even try to stop Fudge from thinking that I was a lier.  
  
Fourth year, Voldemort put me into the Tri Wizard Tournament, right under your nose. He even got a portkey into the last task. Now, did you even know any of that? No, you didn't. And when I needed someone to help me, you weren't there. I was all alone.  
  
And then fifth year. Dementors showed up right in my neighborhood, but were you there? No. The entire wizarding world thought I was a lunatic when all I did was tell them the truth, but did you try to stop them? No, you were too worried about what they thought of you. And then all through the year, you never even told me that there was a chance that Voldemort could get control of me. You never tried to stop it from happening until I found out. But you protected yourself, didn't you?  
  
And then to top it all off, every summer you sent me back to the Dursleys', knowing that they hate me and knowing that I didn't want to go back. But, did it ever cross your mind to ask /why/ I didn't want to go back so much? Did you even consider the possibility that there was a reason why I dreaded going back every summer? No, you didn't. Or if you did, you didn't care about it.  
  
Not to mention the fact that you've lied to me my entire life, about everything."  
  
--TBC  
  
So, what do you think? Is it good so far? And don't worry, I will be explaining how Harry came to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  
  
Thank you to all of my reviewers! 


	3. Flashback One

Disclaimer: As I've said before, I do not own Harry Potter. I am just borrowing them to conduct a few experiments on. But, as I've said before, they will be returned to J.K.R. in time for the sixth book. But I cannot guarantee what state their minds will be in. After all, the mind is a fragile thing...  
  
/--/ means italics  
  
'--' means thoughts  
  
"--" means speech  
  
"We tell lies when we are afraid... afraid of what we don't know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger." - Tad Williams  
  
Emeralds of Ice  
  
--The Summer Before Sixth Year--  
  
It was beautiful night out. All the stars were shining, and the full moon was especially bright. Everything seemed to be at peace.  
  
All the houses on Privet Drive seemed normal, and they were. Except for one.  
  
In all the other houses, its occupants were sleeping, dreaming. But in number 4, one of its four occupants was not asleep. In fact, he was trying /not/ to sleep. Because for him, sleep meant dreams. And his dreams weren't just dreams, they were reality. Not to mention that if he dreamt, his dreams could take control of him. And he did not want that to happen.  
  
So Harry Potter sat on his unmade bed, trying his best not to fall to sleep. Not that he'd be able to fall asleep with the pain that spasmed through his entire body.  
  
Uncle Vernon had been terrible this summer. Worse than he ever had before. Sure, he had hit Harry before. Several times before. But this summer was the worst. He had lost his job at Grunnings. And, of course, uncle Vernon blamed it on Harry and his 'abnormality'. So, as soon as Harry had walked in the door, Vernon had punched him right in the eye and had thrown him into the wall. Then he had taken his trunk and stuffed it in the cupboard under the stairs, saying that he wouldn't see any of his 'freak' things for the entire summer.  
  
Luckily, Harry had given Ron Hedwig this summer to take care of. He didn't know why he did it, he just had this terrible sense of foreboding. Now, he was glad he had, since he didn't even want to think about what uncle Vernon might have done to her.  
  
It had only been two weeks since he had returned to Number 4, Privet Drive, but he was already more than anxious to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He missed his friends, his dorm, everything. He even missed /Snape/, if that was even possible.   
  
Sure, Harry could have told someone about what was happening to him. It would have been all too easy. After all, he did have at least one witch or wizard watching his house at all times. But he didn't tell any of them. He didn't breathe a word of it. Whenever he spoke to one of them, he always said that he was 'fine'.  
  
Sure, he regretted lying to them.   
  
Sure, he didn't want to be beaten.  
  
But, the one emotion that won out was...shame.  
  
Harry Potter, a.k.a., the-boy-who-lived, was ashamed.  
  
After all, he had defeated the dark lord when he was one-year old. He had confronted him almost every year since he had begun Hogwarts. And survived every encounter. He was the champion of the Tri Wizard Tournament. /The-bloody-boy-who-bloody-lived/!  
  
And yet, he couldn't stop his own relatives, /muggles/, from beating him.  
  
So, Harry Potter sat on his bed, alone, ashamed, beaten, and quietly crying himself into a fitful sleep.  
  
And no one in the world, not even his closest friends, knew.  
  
--TBC  
  
--A/N-- sorry about the long wait. I had the first half written in a day, but I came to a road block. I've never written /anything/ with abuse in it, so I got kind of stuck. Anyway, here it is. I hope you liked it. It took me under, I dunno, fifteen, twenty minutes to write the rest. Well, there you go.   
  
Thanks to all of my reviewers! They really make my day! 


	4. We should have pushed

--A/N-- There was a bit of confusion with the last chapter, so I thought I might clear it up. Chapter three was flashing back to the summer before sixth year. Throughout this story I will be flashing back to certain scenes in Harry's life, to see how and why Harry joined Voldemort. These chapters will be noted as 'Flashback One', Flashback Two' and so on. I'm sorry for any confusion that it might have caused. (Also, none of the characters in this story see these flashbacks, they are merely for your benefit.)   
  
And I am sorry that this is so late in coming. I got terrible writer's block. I had no idea of where this story was going or how it would get there. But I do now...sorta...I think...maybe...  
  
Disclaimer- Of course I own Harry Potter. That's why I'm sitting here typing a Harry Potter fanfiction, on a five year old computer, in a room the size of Harry's cupboard, with about twenty dollars to my name. Yeah. Note the sarcasm.   
  
/--/ means italics  
  
'--' means thoughts  
  
"--" means speech  
  
"Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little." - Edmund Burke  
  
Emeralds of Ice  
  
They all knelt there, knowing that they really /did/ care for Harry, but also knowing that Harry's biting words were true.   
  
All of them had had their suspicions of Harry's homelife-why he never wanted to go back to the Dursleys for the summer, why he never spoke of how they treated him, why he begged so vehemently to stay at Hogwarts for just one summer.   
  
There were other signs, too.   
  
How Harry always seemed to flinch when anyone even barely touched him.   
  
How he was always very soft-spoken as if he were afraid that if he were too loud something terrible would happen to him.   
  
And then there were the scars.   
  
They had all noticed them, and some of them had even asked Harry about them.   
  
Quidditch, Dudley, childhood accidents. Those were his answers. Answers that were good enough for them. Believable even.   
  
Except for the tingling sensation in the back of their minds. Like something about those answers was...off. Like they weren't the entire truth.   
  
But none of them had thought-or had the nerve-to ask him more thoroughly about them. They all, without discussing it with anyone else, had made the same assumption that if what they /thought/ was happening was /actually/ happening, then, surely Harry would have said /something/, wouldn't he?  
  
Though, the truth was, they were afraid of what the /real/ answers might be.   
  
Of course, now it was too late.   
  
Of course, now they realized that they should have pushed him to tell the truth. Then, maybe, this could have been avoided. Maybe...  
  
"I am so sorry, Harry," Hermione whispered to him, her tear-filled eyes locked onto his steel gaze. "But you're wrong. We did care. We still do care. Though, maybe it wasn't enough. I'm sorry. I...I guess I wasn't as good a...as good a friend as I thought I was. If I were, then, then, maybe, I could have seen what was happening sooner, and, maybe, I dunno, stopped it somehow...could've helped you, maybe...I...I just could've done /something/. I am so sorry, Harry, I am /so/ sorry."   
  
--TBC  
  
--A/N-- Again, I am deeply sorry about the long wait. The next chapter will, hopefully, be out much quicker than this one did.  
  
As always, please review! 


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